


A Glorious Lady and His Beast

by To_Shiki



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: And yet, Breast enhancements, Coming Untouched, Crossdressing, Crossdressing Kink, Enemas, Gangbang, Insomnia, Marathon Sex, Multi, Prostate Milking, Rimming, Shame on you Nyx, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, The Reclaiming of Nyx Ulric, Then, Unsafe Sex, Worried Kingsglaives, all the sex, coming soft, consensual feminization, everyone wants Nyx, free sex between 'glaives, grossly domestic after one night, it's great, non-gross description of, pretty Nyx, safe sex, the condition not the city, this was supposed to be like 2 pages, tuck and tape
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-31 14:47:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13977363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/To_Shiki/pseuds/To_Shiki
Summary: From the FFXV Kink Meme (who's surprised?):  The classic lady cop having to don a dress and heels to go undercover as a sex worker or something but with Crowe. Only everyone can tell that Crowe is not comfortable dressing like this - she wants her jeans & jacket back please. So one of the other Glaives steps up to wear the dress and heels for the job.+if the Nyx is the one to dress upBut it developed a plot and has taken over my brain.  I am sorry, yet not sorry.





	1. Who Will be the Fake Gold-digger?

Crowe gives one last huff of irritation before heading for the door.  ‘If those fuckers laugh…’ she thinks angrily, ankles wobbling from the thin heels of her new shoes.  She can hear them downstairs, hooting and yelling at each other.  Knowing them, they’ll catcall and whistle as soon as they see her.

Each step down the wooden stairs is taken slowly.  Not only for her balance on such impractical footwear, but also to mask her descent.  If they were going to mock her, she was going to face them head-on so they get a full view of their mistake.

The heat, from the heater and multiple bodies, curls up around her bare legs, sending goosebumps up and down her arms.  The dainty jewelry holding the neck of her dress closed dangles against her bare back, adding a shiver as she alights on the final step.

Now she waits.  Fists resting on her hips, she straightens her back, raises her head.  She’s ready for it.  They can say what they want about how mediocre her make-up is, how piss poor her wig is styled.  These heels are pointy enough she can and will stab them with them.  They want something better then they can damn well do it themselves.

Ten seconds.  Fifteen.  Twen-

Pelna’s the first to notice.  Everyone else notices __him__  when he starts choking on his drink.  ‘Glaives on either side of him __helpfully__ pound a fist on his back.  Pelna’s hand, shaking from the shock of it all, lifts up and points to the stairway.

Eight sets of eyes, one watering from choking, turn in Crowe’s direction.  She braces herself again.  Several of them open and close their mouths like fish, nothing coming out.  Others exchange looks between themselves and her, making the oddest facial expressions she’s ever seen.

“Okay,” she breaks the mounting silence.  “This is ridiculous.  How do I look?”  A wavering slow spin (‘I think I’m getting the hang of this!’) lets her men see the disguise in its entirety.

Grim-faced, no one wolf whistles at her.  Silent, there’s no suggestive comments.

“No.  Just __no__.”

Everyone turns to look at Luche, Crowe included.  

“Do you have __any__  idea how uncomfortable you look right now?”  He pauses briefly at her disbelieving glare.  “Of course you do.  If we can see it then the mark will, too.”

Eyes back on her, everyone in the room nods their heads in agreement.  There’s no way the mission will work if the wearer can’t get comfortable with the physical aspect of the disguise.

“Well, then who’s going to be the fake gold-digger?”

At that moment, Nyx Ulric enters the room, fresh from a meeting with the council specifically about the current mission.  He catches the tail end of Libertus’ question and can’t help but ask, “Who’s a gold-digger?”

No one answers his question at first.  They all look to each other.  Then the collective way every head turns in his direction adamantly has him wishing he’d never opened his mouth.

“Well, the mark’s a kinky fucker, anyways.” 

~*~

2 hours later…

“hOlY sHiT!”

“Oh stop grumbling, you baby!”

“You don’t understand, Crowe!  I can feel the air hitting my skin __everywhere__!”

“Good.  That means the beautician did a good job.  Now pay her so we can go, already.  Pelna’s wife’s waiting for you to go clothes shopping.”

“You pay.  I can’t look her in the eye right now~”

“Coward.  You aren’t the first man she’s smoothed out.” 

~*~

3 hours later…

“I can be reimbursed for all this…  Right?”

“Nah.  But if you don’t want to keep it all then you can just sell them.”

“WHO’S GOING TO BUY MAN-SIZED DRESSES AND HIGH HEELED SHOES?”

“You __obviously__  don’t go onto the fun side of the internet, do you?  Now, one more shop to get the last items.”

“What more do I NEED?”

“The sexy bits.”

“I have those in my hands!”

“Oh no, dear.  The __underneath__  sexy bits!”

  

~*~

Day of the mission…

“Someone kill me now.”

“Nope.  That would completely defeat all the work we did yesterday.  Now lay back and think of the ‘Glaives.”

 

~*~

It was supposed to end there.  But soon we'll get into all the pairings and porns. 

 


	2. Mission Prep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to get Nyx all dressed up for the mission. Also time to really start earning that Explicit rating!

Day of the mission…

“Someone kill me now.”

“Nope.  That would completely defeat all the work we did yesterday.  Now lay back and think of the ‘Glaives.”

With a heavy sigh, Nyx does just that.  Thoughts of how he’s going to never be allowed to live this down dances through his brain.  It’s almost enough to distract him from the ice cold towel being pressed against his hairless groin.

“FUCKING HELL!”

Three sets of hands hold him down as he tries to buck off the unwanted item.  One holding his shoulders down, two holding both hips and thighs on each side, as Libertus continues to try and freeze his manhood off.

“Stop squirming!  I’ll be done in a second!”  Libertus switches out the warming towel for a fresh one right out of the bowl of ice water next to him. A handful of seconds later, he removes the towel, dries the area off, and says, “Okay, now lemme know if this hurts.”

Deft fingers __slowly__  push his balls up against his body.  Nyx wants to call out that it hurts, it hurts!  But they need him for the mission.  And it doesn’t really hurt as much as he thought it wou-

“Stop stop stooop!”  He can feel them pushing up against __something__  inside his pelvis.

Thankfully, his friend listens to him.  For once.

“That’s…what ARE you doing down there?”  Nyx raises his head and tries to see just what, exactly, Libertus is doing to him now.

“Gotta wrap, then tuck.”  

The iciness from the towels keeps Nyx nice and soft and shrunken so his empty ball sack can be wrapped snugly around his cock.  

__Scrrrch!__   Nyx spares a glance down his torso to where Libertus stands between his legs.  “Is that fhu-cking duct tape?!”

“Don’t worry,” the hand on his right shoulder pats him, consolingly.  “It’ll come off.”

“When it wants to!” someone else chuckles.

A long strip of gray tape is wrapped around his ball sack, securing it in place.  Everything’s gently tugged back and laid to rest, head of his cock taped down on either side of the underneath of his ass cheeks.

“Now, when you wanna take a piss, I would suggest doing some acrobatics and creative squats.”

“HOW do you even know all this, Luche?”

The man in question shrugs a shoulder.  “I have a lot of time on my hands and Mooglepedia’s random article generator is a frighteningly enlightening thing.

“All right, enough.  Am I done now?”

“Nope.”  The way Luche pops his ‘p’ sends dread ( _ _anticipation__ ) racing down Nyx’s spine.  “There’s one more thing to do.”  He turns around and everyone can see the assorted instruments and containers on his table.

Syringes, alcohol wipes, latex gloves, plastic bags full of some clear fluid.

“We received some last minute intel yesterday while you were out shopping.”  Luche rolls his little table over to stop on Nyx’s left side.  “Our mark is, quite frankly, the king of kinks, I think.”  He and Nyx ignore the chuckling brought on by his unintended rhyming.  “So, with your permission of course, I’ll make it so you don’t have to stuff your bra as much.”

“How?”

All eyes on Luche.

“Breast enhancement.”

“You are __not__  cutting me open and shoving some fake shit in me for a one day mission!”

“That’s correct.  Instead, I’ll inject you with a saline solution.”  He holds up the bag.  “It’ll harmlessly fill your pectorals, so that they will resemble actual breasts.  And within 24 hours… it will be absorbed into your bloodstream and flushed out.”

Luche stares him dead in the eyes as he shares the information.  The four surrounding them hold their collective breath, not daring to distract either of them.   _ _All__  of them are picturing it, though.  It’s obvious from the tented uniform pants and the way a light sheen of sweat breaks out across Nyx’s suddenly flushed face.

Nyx’s chest is heaving when he finally answers.  “Oh fucking hell.  Do it!”

Everyone cheers as Luche nods and gets ready.  Hands cleaned and latex gloves on, he motions to two of the syringes.  “This,” he says as he checks one for air bubbles, “is to numb the area.  It will be a little painful inserting the saline and stretching out the skin.”

“Go ahead.  I can take a little pain.”

Four sets of hands hold him down as the analgesia is injected into the fatty tissue in each pec.  A few minutes later, when he can no longer __feel__  Crowe’s blunt nails pressing into the area, he gives Luche the go ahead.

A pole on either side of his head holds the bags of saline aloft, their tubing dangling down by his shoulders.  Luche carefully attaches them to their IV needles, then inserts them into the numbed skin.  Turning a knob halfway down the tubing and the solution slowly __drip drips__  down into Nyx’s body.

As Luche keeps an eye on Nyx and the equipment, the others finish their end of things.  The bags from Nyx’s shopping spree yesterday are dumped onto another nearby table.  Digging through, everything’s arranged in order of placement.

A low cut thong, all lace and silk and specifically made for this, is settled in place, barely covering the essentials.  Then, sheer black thigh-high stockings are rolled up tense legs.  Matching garter belt and straps are put on, securing the stockings in place.

“Daaamn, Nyx.  You look so hot right now,” someone whispers.

Another agrees with him.  “We need to do this more often.”

“But not for a mission,” Crowe clears up.  “Just for us.”

“Can’t wait til you get back from the mission, sweetheart.  We’re going to __wreck__  you!” Libertus adds, rubbing his hands up and down smooth thighs.

A sharp gasp from Nyx draws all eyes up to his face.  At least, they tried to look at his face.  They all got a little distracted by his chest.

His now very well-endowed chest.  

Light brown nipples are rock hard and sticking straight up. Tanned skin stretched slightly out and very much up as more saline floods their insides.  The reason Nyx had gasped was because, bags only half empty, he was able to easily cup each breast in hand.

If it weren’t for his prominent Adam’s apple, visible with his head thrown back in pleasure, he could have easily been mistaken for an actual woman.

“You’re going to have that mark eating out of the palm of your hand before the night’s over,” is breathed into his ear as all hands start petting his skin, both exposed and covered.

“By the Six, we need to do this to you more often,” Crowe agrees, playing with his aching nipples, wary of the needles.

Nyx can’t help but groan in agreement.  The sensation of his pecs filling out more and more, skin stretching until his hands are full, is just shy of overwhelming.  

“Finished,” Luche announces.  His voice is tight with repressed desire.  ‘After,’ he tells himself.  ‘After the mission.’  With hands that barely tremble from effort, he removes the IV needles.

“Ya gave him a good size, Luche.”

“Damn right I did.  Didn’t want him to seem like some abstract sculpture.”  Feigning clinical interest, which fooled no one, he bats away Crowe’s wondering hands.

Warm latex rubs and pulls and fondles.  Nyx has a very hard time not pushing his chest up into the attention.  So he doesn’t resist.  He lets Luche play with his breasts, inspecting them for who knows what.

“It’ll do,” comes the verdict.

Hands at his wrists and shoulders pull and push Nyx up into a sitting position.  The new weight on his chest makes him top-heavy, and he nearly faceplants into Libertus’ chest.  

“Whu-?

“Don’t worry,” Pelna assures him, “that’s what the corset’s for.”

Soon Nyx finds himself with a sturdy contraption of steel and silk wrapped around his torso from under his new breasts to his hips.  Cool fabric quickly warms to his body as laces are pulled tight.

“Breathe in,” Crowe instructs.

He does, and almost coughs it all out.  Lace’s pulled tighter,causing the corset to constrict.  His back straightens out, abdomen squeezed until he’s sporting an almost hourglass figure.  At least now it looks like he has a typical female figure.

“Okay, you can breathe normally again.”

“Ha!” he manages to wheeze out.

Blood red high heels are slipped onto his feet.  Little ankle straps are buckled in place before he’s helped onto his feet.  The corset keeps him from sagging too much, but he still has to consciously work to keep his balance.  A strapless bra matching his panties is put on.  Crowe has a little too much fun settling his tits in place.

“Now, lets see you walk, darling!” she orders, giving his bare asscheek a resounding __slap!__

Ankles barely supported by their straps wobble as he does so.  He keeps his legs slightly parted, so that it doesn’t feel like he’s crushing his bound cock between them.  The three inch heels are a bit of a challenge, but he finds that if he sways his hips just right…

He makes a circuit of the room, passing by each ‘Glaive.  They stand in a circle around him, making sure to follow Crowe’s lead and smacking his ass when he gets close enough.  

Each step makes his tits jiggle, each hand against his ass results in both areas shaking from the impact.  Sometimes the blows land hard enough to make him jolt away, fighting to find his stride once more.

“You have __no idea__  how much I just want to say fuck the mission and take you over the table, Nyx,” Libertus announces when his friend is within arm’s reach.

Neatly filed and painted nails from yesterday’s salon visit reach up and gently scratch against the scruff of Lib’s chin.  “Wait until tomorrow, baby.”  Nyx flutters his eyelashes and walks away before Libertus can add to his reddening ass.

He sashays his way over to the table with the rest of his mission clothing.  “Now, who wants to help me put this on?”  He pulls out the mid thigh length halter top dress.  It’s almost skin tight, as red as his heels and nails, and slit up both sides right before thigh becomes hip.

Pelna lets them fight over it (Luche wins since he was closest) and goes rifling through the collection of make-up and hair products his wife helped pick out.  Luche’s zipping up the back of the dress and Crowe’s combing out the new wig by the time he turns around, desired items in hand.

“Sit down so I can pretty you up some more!” he orders cheerfully.  Everything’s laid out in order on the table where Nyx had started out.  When the man complied, sitting in the chair Libertus had pulled out for him, Pelna got to work.

Primer, foundation, contour, foundation.  Eyeliner, eyeshadow, mascara.  Lipstick, blush, and finally a sealer to keep everything from sweating/washing off.

“How in the absolute fuck do you know how to work magic like THAT?!” Crowe whispers, taking in Nyx’s softer, more elegant looking face.  She’s snapping a picture on her phone before she even realizes.

“Wife needed help while she was pregnant.  Talked me through all of it so I could do it for her when she didn’t have the energy.”  He eyes his work critically.  A little less blush, a little filling in of the eyebrows.

After the make-up, comes the jewelry.  Rings, both plain and bejeweled are slipped onto Nyx’s fingers.  Bracelets around wrists and bangles around biceps.  Multi-strand pearl necklace clasped around his neck.  Matching pearl earrings.  A gold cuff on the right ear.

Then the final touch:  the wig.  Ashy brown, curling down to mid back, and wisps frame his cheeks.  It’s securely fastened, ensuring that no amount of *ahem* activities could removed it.  Just like with the duct tape, it would have to be removed with the right process.

A few touch ups (all excuses for everyone to get their hands on him again) and he was ready.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sex in the ‘Glaives - freely given, anyone who has SO/spouses - they’re totally cool with it and knew going into a relationship with a ‘Glaive that it happens
> 
> 2 pages... 2pages... Mission Prep brings it to 8 pages. Mission Time rn brings the total to 18 and it's not finished o.O;


	3. Mission Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for Nyx to seduce the mark - a Lord Mi'ihen, cult leader who's being a pain in the ass.

Mission Time…

 

Nyx slowly makes his way around the floor.  He’s got a champagne glass in hand and one eye on the mark at all times.  From intel he knows that the man likes to be in charge at all times.  So approaching him first won’t work.

Time to entice him over. 

When he sees the man’s eyes linger on him, he throws his head back to take a drink.  Standing so the man has a side view of him, it’s hard to miss his muscles and the Adam’s apple bobbing as he drinks the overly sweet liquid.  Both are a stark contrast to his jewelry and clothing.

The mark, a Lord Mi’ihen, is caught.  It doesn’t or does help when Nyx starts idly playing with one of his visible garter straps.  When Lord Mi’ihen makes his way over, Nyx can’t help but put a hand to his heaving chest (thanks to the corset) in anticipation.  Because Lord Mi’ihen doesn’t walk.  It’s a Astrals-be-damned __swagger__  towards Nyx.

The man exudes confidence, but not an once of arrogance.

He is, without a doubt, a very well built man.  Tall, tanned, and wild black hair brushed away from his face.  Square jaw, piercing eyes taking in every inch of Nyx.  Broad shoulders, heavily muscled arms straining the sleeves of his suit.  A barrel torso and thick thighs carry him over to Nyx’s corner of the room in less than a minute.

“Well hello there, precious.”

‘Shit shit shit shit,’ is Nyx’s first reaction to the deep baritone that vibrates straight down to his restrained cock.  ‘Cult leader, he’s a cult leader!’ quickly follows, much quieter and less potent.  

He lets none of that second thought show.  Instead, he acts out on the first, fluttering his eyelashes and smiling coyly.  “Hello yourself, sir.”  They’d opted on not trying to disguise his voice, hoping that the surprise would interest him even more.

If his suddenly blown pupils were anything to go by, they’d hoped right.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before, Miss…?”

“Nicole Karmic, my lord.”

“Miss Nicole.”  Lord Mi’ihen takes Nyx’s hand and places a chaste kiss to the back of it.  “It is wonderful to meet you.”  As he stands, Nyx is able to get a good whiff of the other man’s cologne.  It’s heady, woodsy and musky, and wraps around Nyx’s brain like wind carrying a storm - calming and stimulating all at once.

Nyx gives a little curtsy when his hand’s released.  “The __pleasure’s__  mine, m’lord.”  Taking a bracing sip of his champagne, he adds, “It’s been so dull here.  People just talk, talk, talking.  No excitement.”

“Oho?  And what about me approaching you makes this evening better?”  Mi’ihen crowds in closer, pressing Nyx’s back against the wall.  Pressed chest to chest, Nyx still has to tilt his head up to look the other man in the eyes.

“Your suit hides it well,” Nyx breathes out, champagne glass abandoned on a passing waitstaff’s tray.  Both hands free, he takes liberty in rubbing them up and down the front of said suit.  He just can’t help himself.  “But I can tell you’re like me:  you prefer __action__  to words.”

“That I do,” he agrees.  Strong, calloused hands wonder down Nyx’s sides.  They curl around, cupping his ass underneath his dress.  “Words can be so… __empty__ , depending on who they come from.”  A squeeze and slap help accentuate his wording, pulling an aroused gasp from Nyx.

Somehow, Nyx’s bound and __soft__  cock is leaking precome just from that alone.  He’ll have to ask Luche about that.  Later.

“Well said, m’lord.”  The compliment’s followed by him spreading his legs, enticing Mi’ihen to settle in closer.  This close and he can’t miss the thick cock hardening against his stomach.  “Actions do speak louder than words, after all.”  He grinds his hips, resulting in feeling that glorious cock twitch in his pants.

“Shall we take this elsewhere?”

Nyx grabs the hand traveling between his legs and tugs.  “I thought you’d never ask.”

Mi’ihen darts in for a rough, dominating kiss that has Nyx’s knees wobbling.  “Come, then.  I have a room in this hotel.”

“Perfect,” the ‘Glaive purrs, allowing the larger man to lead them away.

 

~*~

Outside…

“Please, __please__  tell me we have a hidden camera or something on him!”

“You just want to see him having sex.”

“We all do!”

“Unfortunately, no.  We’ll have to make due with him recounting it all when he gets back.”

“Oooo!  Maybe we can convince him to roleplay it instead!”

“Stop babbling and move in!  We’ve only got a short window here!”

“With Nyx in that getup?  More like we got all night!”

 

~*~

 

“Oh, you are a naughty little thing, aren’t you?”

Nyx answers with a whine low in his throat.

Mi’ihen has him pinned face first against the door.  Just the man’s weight alone would have him struggling to free himself on a good day.  Now, it’s just serving to turn him on even more.  He’s surrounded - size, strength, and scent.  And he can’t get enough of it. 

What had prompted Mi’ihen’s comment was what his wandering hands discovered.  Grinding his clothed erection against an equally covered ass, his hands went from hips to Nyx’s crotch.  Pushing his hand down the front of his panties and he’s easily able to touch all the tape binding him away.

“Thought you might not be what you appeared.  Does that mean that __these__  aren’t real?”  Those same hands come up to fondle at his chest.  He’s going to have bruises tomorrow from the grip that man has!  “They don’t feel fake…”

“S-s-saline injection!” Nyx gasps out, covering Mi’ihen’s hands with his own.  He’s still grinding back, can’t stop himself.  “Was going to just stuff a bra, li-like normal, but my friend’s a do-ah!-ctor.”

“Now this I’ve got to see!”

Panting, Nyx stands there, feet slightly parted, back arched as much as possible, as Mi’ihen steps away.  A second later the back of his dress’ being unzipped.  Inch by inch, with chapped lips kissing their way down each patch of exposed skin and corset.

He didn’t yank the dress off like he expected.  Their intel has him as an ex-military general man with control issues and an affection of violence.  His cult’s responsible for multiple bombings and threats of converting others towards “purifying” the human race.  Whatever that means to them.

That’s why he’s here:  to distract Mi’ihen so the others can infiltrate his base and gather all they can.  Nyx had told them they only get him in this outfit for a few hours and then he’s done.  Looks like he was right.

Instead, he gently slid it down his arms and body, careful of his multiple pieces of jewelry.  Being the ever (surprisingly) gentleman, Mi’ihen helps Nyx step out of his dress.  It’s neatly draped over a nearby chair before his attention’s back where it belongs.

Nyx is, honest to all that’s holy, __trembling__  with anticipation.  Hands splayed wide against the thick door of the hotel room and locked knees are all that keeps him upright.  Gasping for air leaves the shiny veneer of the door moist against his cheek when he rests his head for a moment.

“Turn around, gorgeous.  I want to see all of you.”

‘This must be how he gets people to join his cause,’ the ‘Glaive thinks, slowly pushing away from the door to follow the command.  Lord Mi’ihen’s voice is soft yet firm, in complete control but Nyx doesn’t feel like he’s being treated poorly.  There’s absolute wonder on the taller man’s face once Nyx can look at him again.

He makes a pretty tempting sight, after all.  Clad in nothing more than his lingerie and jewelry, body faintly trembling and light shining off his gold.  A light blush from his cheeks down to his heaving chest only adds to the enthralled expression on the man’s face.

“How did I get so lucky as to find you tonight, my dear?”  Those large hands come to rest on Nyx’s hips, covering both the hem of corset and the sides of his panties.  Stepping closer he can’t help but nuzzle at the blush on Nyx’s neck, a worried hum vibrating against the smooth skin.  “You are shaking, Nicole!  What is wrong?”

When he pulls away to stare Nyx in the eyes, the shorter man stumbles to come up with an answer.  Cult leader he may be, threatening the King and country, but in here he’s either a __really__  good actor or…

“I’m sorry, m’lord.  I…I do this, sometimes, on dares from my friends.  I’ve always had to deal with creepy old men.  Rude, old men who are nothing but perverts.  Not someone like you.”  The words tumble out of Nyx’s mouth.  He finally pulls himself together enough to raise his hands and cup Mi’ihen’s face.  “I’ve never been with someone who treats me like I’m a…”

“Like the treasure that you are?”  He envelopes the smaller man in a gentle embrace.  “Those men before me are fools!  Even if this is a dare, you deserve to be treated better.”  He punctuates his statement with a burning kiss, leaving Nyx breathless from more than just his corset.  “Please, Nicole, allow me to show you just how you should be taken to bed.”

There’s nothing but honesty in Mi’ihen’s eyes and Nyx worries a little.  Worries that this man- this mission might just ruin him for being romanced in the future.  But that’s for another time and place.

“You still want me?  Knowing that I’ve been tainted by others?”

“I see nothing tainted about you, my dear.  I see a beautiful person, with a beautiful heart, asking to be loved.”  Mi’ihen captures Nyx’s chin between thumb and forefinger.  “Allow me this honor?”

All Nyx can do it nod.  His voice’s caught in his throat.  There’s a fluttery sensation in his chest that gets worse the longer he gazes into the other man’s eyes.

“Too much talking.   _ _Show me.__ ”

The shake in his voice let’s Mi’ihen know __exactly__  how affected Nyx is by his words.  “Gladly.”

One moment Nyx is having his tongue tangle with Mi’ihen’s, the next all his breath’s knocked out of him from being thrown over Mi’ihen broad shoulder.  The taller man spins them around several times, drawing laughter out of both of them as he stumbles his way closer to the huge bed.

He doesn’t toss his treasure onto the bed like Nyx expected.  Instead, he puts one knee on the mattress, gently lowering Nyx onto the soft comforter.  All laughter disappears as the ‘Glaive finds himself trapped not only underneath the man’s body, but also by his gaze.

There’s no maliciousness to be seen, like was also expected.  The same wonder was there, only something more.  Something… that was making Mi’ihen pant for air, palms within an inch of Nyx’s body but not yet touching.  It was…

It was __hunger__.  Pure, restrained hunger.  For Ny-  For Nicole.

Before he could do anything stupider than the mission, Nyx reaches up quickly to pull Mi’ihen down for a burning kiss.  The next few minutes pass by in a blur as they make out like that, Nyx in nothing but his underthings and jewels, Mi’ihen still fully clothed.

A pause to remove both their shoes brought that fact to their attention.  Raising an eyebrow, Nyx shifts back so he’s resting his upper body against the headboard.  Taking the way he’s been treated so far tonight, he imperiously orders, “Off with all that.  It’s only fitting I should get to see all of you as well.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

Nyx takes great pleasure in his show.  Mi’ihen slowly unbuttons his dress shirt.  Striping off both suit jacket and shirt, they are flung blindly over to the same chair as Nyx’s desk.  And with the skills of a highly trained man, they make their target.  Belt is unbuckled, hanging loosely, then button undone and zipper s-l-o-w-l-y pulled down.  Mi’ihen is rightfully prideful of the fact that he can remove his slacks by crawling forward on the bed.  Those, too, find their way to the chair.

In nothing more than his boxer briefs and socks, Mi’ihen moves until he’s straddling Nyx’s legs.  Like this he towers over the slighter man and uses his position to pull Nyx into another, softer, kiss.

Now, Nyx is quite thrilled about the fact that he can still multitask with that man trying to devour him.  He’s tangling his tongue with Mi’ihen’s, feeling up the man’s incredibly impressive abs, tracing each jagged scar he finds, moaning like there’s no tomorrow, all while trying to convince himself he has to sneak out when the man falls asleep.

The last part’s not going so well.

So he changes it.  Does what he has to to finish the mission.  Disengaging the logical part of his brain, he goes with the hind brain - all instinct and desires.  Hands curl up around thick biceps, legs wrap around those powerful thighs.  He breaks the kiss and tilts his head, wordlessly directing Mi’ihen where else he wants those sinful lips to touch.

The atmosphere in the room is heavy, thick with their heat and scent of building passions.  Mi’ihen takes delight in each breathy gasp Nyx makes as he gradually kisses his way down to his heaving chest.  He doesn’t bother with removing the bra.  Instead, he treats it like it’s a part of Nyx, licking and nibbling at the delicate fabrics, getting the nipple poking through with his teeth and pulling gently.  Once that side is happily abused, he moves onto the other.

His hands aren’t idle.  Like Nyx, he lets them roam over the slighter body below him.  Trailing over defined biceps, down silk-covered abs, stroking smooth thighs.  They come back when Nyx makes a whimpering noise low in his throat, to cup his ass.  There they knead and __pull,__ grinding their groins together.

Both are leaking by the time Mi’ihen breaks away.  Nyx can feel the wetness dripping between his legs.  His eyes linger on the front of Mi’ihen’s underwear, sizing up the bulge hidden behind it.

“On your hands and knees, precious.”  Mi’ihen looks like he’s all composed, barely out of breath and not sweating.  But his voice his deeper, huskier and Nyx would be a fool not to listen to him.  “I want to prepare you properly.”

Beyond aroused, and strangely still soft, Nyx is quick to comply.  In two seconds flat he’s on his hands and knees, body shaking as it’s presented to a dangerous man like Mi’ihen.

A hand pushes down on his upper back, easing his face down onto the pillow.  “Stay,” Mi’ihen breathes into his ear.  

“yes, sir.”

That hand slides down his back, up to his tailbone and stops.  Rubbing soothingly, the other hand comes up between Nyx’s spread legs to mirror the movement against his cock.  Nyx is soft and dripping precome and __soft__  and there’s pressure on his chest where his breasts are pressed against the mattress…

“Nicole?”

The hands have stopped and it takes Nyx a second to realize why:  Mi’ihen had asked him a question.

“Yes?”  He’s panting and floating on endorphins.  He’s also pretty sure that whatever this man asks of him, he’ll give it.  Just to have those hands moving again.

“I asked, do you want to keep this on?”  One thick finger traces his cock through the panties, and for a horrifying moment Nyx thought he meant his actual cock.  But that finger goes up between his cheeks, pressing lightly at his asshole.  Then up to the waistband, pulling back and letting it snap pleasantly against Nyx’s flushed skin. 

The unexpected sting has Nyx’s body tensing, Mi’ihen letting out a satisfied hum of approval.  Nyx’s brain is running a mile a minute to nowhere.  He can’t decide if he does want them to stay on or not.  Pros and cons.  Cons and pros…

“They do look so lovely on you, Nico-”

“Yes!”  Nyx swallows hard, “Please, sir.  Keep them on.  I don’t-don’t want to ruin the image you have of me.”  He has fistfuls of the sheets in a death grip.  His brain’s screaming at him, ‘Why did you say that?  Why is he a sir?  Get a grip!’

It’s ignored in favor of changing his grip.  From the crumpled sheets to his asscheeks, grabbing a handful and spreading them wide.  Knees slide a little bit, widening his stance to show off more.

The reward for good behavior comes in the form of Mi’ihen brushing his hands away.  Larger hands, callouses scraping deliciously against sensitive flesh, take their place, one of them holding the thin band between aside.

Nyx’s asshole is pulsing in time with his ragged breathing.  Mi’ihen has a clear view of it, closing the gap to lick a path from the head of his steadily leaking cock to just past his hole.  He kisses his way back down, adding little nips to the sensitive area.

“Is it all right, then,” Mi’ihen asks, breath hot, “if I call this your pussy?”  A couple more licks and nibbles.  “So as not to break the __scene__?”

Hearing __that__  voice saying that word and not caring about the truth underneath does him in.  Nyx is __begging__  within a heartbeat.  “Please!  Please please please-”

“Okay, my treasure.  Calm down.  I’ve got you.”  Mi’ihen pulls away and Nyx lets loose one of the most pathetic whines of his life.  The bed shifts beneath him and then Mi’ihen’s back, sitting down and wrapping his legs around Nyx’s as he crosses them.  “Gotta get your pussy ready, lovely.  I’m not a small man.”

“So you’re a show-er and a grow-erraaah!”

Nyx was expecting some spit covered fingers.  What he got was a very thick and talented tongue darting straight into his hole.  And by talented he means he’s never been rimmed with this much skill and dedication before.  It’s like Mi’ihen’s made it his life’s mission.  

He’s drooling, both of them are, actually.  Nyx onto the sheets and Mi’ihen into his ass, slicking the way for a finger to slip in.  The only thing going through Nyx’s mind at this point, besides __more more there yes!__  is he’s ever so thankful for durable make-up.  Because by this point, with tongue and finger twisting and thrusting together, he’s crying into the sheets and sweating like he’s just worked out.

The stimulation almost becomes overwhelming when his hands join the party.  He’s got them pushing his bra down enough for his breasts to pop free.  From there, he mimics Mi’ihen.  When his tongue flexes up and down, Nyx kneads.  Finger and tongue rolling around, stretching out his asshole - stiff nipples are rolled and pinched.

Time passes by agonizingly slowly as Mi’ihen adds another finger.  A third.  By the time he adds a forth Nyx is about to tip over the edge separating pleasure from unwanted pain.  It’s a happy moan that follows Mi’ihen as he finally pulls away.

Hands still spreading Nyx open, the larger man eyes his work.  “I can’t believe how tight you are!  Four fingers stretching out your sweet pussy and it still feels like this could be your first time.”  Those fingers thrust slowly in and out, pressing against the warmth clenching down on them.  “Are you sure you’ve done this before?”

“Would you… Would you believe me if I say it’s be-been a while?”  Nyx is a shaking mess of tears and drool and sweat.  The only cylinders firing right now are the ones that will get that huge man on top of him and in him.

His knees ache.  His thighs ache.  His back is distantly screaming at him.  Doesn’t matter.  All he wants is his man showing him just what he deserves.

“I couldn’t.  It’s an absolute sin to let someone like yourself not be pleasured daily!”  Every other word is punctuated with a wet sucking thrust in and out, keeping him loose and ready.  “If I was yours, your pussy would never remember what it’s like to be so tight.  Every morning and every night, I would worship you like the goddess you are with my whole body.”

A fresh burst of come, it __has__  to be by now, shoots out of Nyx’s cock, missing Mi’ihen to soak into the sheets between his legs.  He just fucking squirted!

“Hmm, that reminds me…”  Mi’ihen pulls his fingers free, moving around, doing something that Nyx can’t see.

“What is it?  Why did you stop?”

“We need lube, my love.  And condoms.”  

He can see Mi’ihen moving out of the corner of his eye now.  “Stockings!”

“What?” Mi’ihen freezes half off the bed, arm reaching towards the bedside table.

“Stockings,” Nyx repeats, pride coating his words.  “Maybe you should check them.”

Intrigued, Mi’ihen does just that.  From toes to ankle, calf to knee to thigh.  Nothing.  Upper thigh, where the fabric is thicker, noth-  Something.  Feeling around, he pulls out a small packet of lube and a condom.

“Someone came prepared,” Mi’ihen praises, kissing the cheek closest to him.  

“Have to be when half the time the old perverts ‘forgets’,” comes the dry explanation.  It does well to hide the ecstatic little skip his heart gives at Mi’ihen’s next words.

“But I’m afraid that these just won’t do.”  Mi’ihen finally gets off the bed and takes two steps to the bedside table.  He drops the condom onto the surface and pulls open the top drawer.  He pulls out a string of his own condoms and holds them up so Nyx can see.  With the abundant lighting of the hotel room, Nyx could figure out why.

Sometime between getting Nyx turned around and getting off the bed, Mi’ihen had decided to remove the last articles of clothing.  Now, completely bare, Nyx gets an eyeful of what was underneath the incredibly plain boxer briefs.  He couldn’t even be bothered when he felt himself squirt again in excitement.

Mi’ihen is a big, tall man, and he’s definitely well proportioned.  He’s got a cock that would make every man in the Kingsglaive jealous.  A good eight inches, slight curve up, and almost as thick as a beer bottle.  He’s got balls the size of billiard balls.  He hopes they’re just as heavy when they’re slapping against his skin.

“Is that excitement I see in your eyes, or fear?”  He grabs another packet of lube from the drawer as well.

By the Astrals.  Extra large condoms and double the lube.  Nyx won’t be walking out of this hotel room tonight.  Mi’ihen’s either going to have to carry him home (tempting…no! bad, nyx!) or let him stay until he can walk unassisted.

“If you don’t stop __talking__  and start __doing__ , I will tie you to this bed and ride you until morning,” Nyx growls out, pushing himself up with his hands.  

He doesn’t get far.  Mi’ihen takes his charged threat to heart.  Back on the bed, back to pushing Nyx’s shoulders down, he gets ready to please his lady.  Condom rolled on, both packets of lube to slick himself up.  

Nyx is panting like a race horse by the time the head’s pressed against his gaping hole.  His whole body’s tense from the anticipation of being fucked by a man renown for his stamina in battle.

“Shhh, precious.  I have you now.”  Mi’ihen sinks the head in, past the tight ring of muscle.  And stops.  With his cock now holding the thong strap aside, his hands are free to roam over the vibrating body beneath him.  “Relax for me, treasure.”  Stroking up and down Nyx’s corseted sides, he waits until the tremors subside before letting another half inch disappear into his willing body.

Mi’ihen spends close to ten minutes, gradually sinking his cock deeper.  Nyx is in tears again by the time he bottoms out.  During all that time it’s encouraging whispers, calloused hands stroking his skin, nuzzling and biting and sucking on his neck and shoulders.  Inhaling each others’ scent of sex and sweat and need.

Nyx, for all he wants him to __move__ , doesn’t want him to.  He wants to catch his breathe, wants to wiggle his hips around to make it stop feeling like he’s being split in two by that thick monster resting inside of him.

He can’t help but clench down on it, inner muscles working overtime to both pull it in deeper and to push it out.  All around him he can feel Mi’ihen’s body tensing in time, trying to resist the urge to follow Nyx’s lead.

Pulling out until only the head’s inside, Mi’ihen lays the praise thick.  “So beautiful for me, my Nicole.  So warm and inviting.”  He thrusts back in with ease, not fast but leisurely.  Hips to ass once more, he whispers, “I could do this to you all night.  I would love to do this:  pleasure you with my cock and my hands and my mouth.  Anything you desire.”

“Any _ _thing__?” Nyx’s voice hitches out, as those hefty balls smack harder against his bound cock.  

“Yesss.”

Nyx reaches back with one hand, grabs a handful of black hair and growls, “ _ _Harder.__   I’m not made of glass.”

And Mi’ihen obeys.

The room’s filled with their grunting, the slapping of flesh against flesh.  Air conditioning kicks on multiple times to combat the raise in temperature.  Metal and wood headboard knocks loudly against the wall as Mi’ihen increases the force of his thrusts.

Before the night’s over they go through all six condoms that Mi’ihen had brought.  Twice on the bed, once on the chaise, twice on the nice ergonomic desk chair by the large windows, and once more on the bed.

The last round has them both passing out.  As the world grays out for Nyx, he’s silently thankful that it was Mi’ihen being the fucker and not the fuckee.  With the man’s almost savage hunger, he isn’t sure he could’ve lasted longer than three rounds.

 

~*~

 

The world’s glowing with a false dawn by the time Nyx next opens his eyes.  Gunky from tears and build-up he rubs at them for a good minute with the hand not trapped.  Not trapped.

He doesn’t panic.  Eyes still closed, he heaves a sigh, getting a lungful of Mi’ihen’s cologne and underlying scent.  His right arm’s stuck between their bodies, as Nyx lays curled up against Mi’ihen’s side.  The other man has his arm wrapped around him, large palm resting against his hip as he slumbers on.

Carefully, Nyx untangles them and sits up.  His ass is so sore it’s numb.  His inner thighs are pulsating in time with his beating heart and holy shit he needs to piss.

One step away from the bed and he begins to seriously contemplates if crawling would hurt less.  It seems that last night has fully caught up to him.

Not only is his ass and thighs a constant reminder of what he did, but so are his feet - heels and the balls sharp pins when he puts any weight on them.  His calves are a dull ache compared to the rest, but still there, letting him know that he needs to either wear heels more often or go with shorter ones next time.

By the time he makes it to the toilet his bladder’s about to explode.  Libertus was right:  he __does__  have to do some interesting acrobatics to relieve himself.  Squats were right out, with the way the entirety of his legs were screaming at him by that point.

Finished, he stumbles his way over to the sink and washes his hands.  Bracing them on the edge of the counter, he braves a look into the fancy mirror suspended over it.  

His hair’s a mess, but it held strong.  Both of them had enjoyed the way Mi’ihen’s pulling on it had Nyx tightening down.  Make-up’s… okay.  He’d smeared his eyeliner and mascara when he woke up.  Lipstick’s all but gone, most likely decorating the base of that delicious cock he’d sucked on last night before the final round.

Thankfully, this hotel comes just as prepared as his lover did.  There’s make-up wipes in the little holder next to the wall.  Carefully Nyx uses a pointed fingernail to wipe away smudged make-up.  Face slightly better, he glances down to the rest of him.

There’s hickeys and bite marks all over his neck and shoulders.  Long, thick finger marks around his still ample chest and around his waist.  His stockings and garter belt survived the night’s rigorous activities along with all his jewelry.  His corset’s missing though, showing off all the places Mi’ihen had held him down.

He’s a little curious as to when that came off, but shrugs it off.  Instead, he pulls out one of the toothbrush and paste packets and starts thoroughly brushing his teeth.  Between having champagne and cock in his mouth, it tastes like something died in there over night.

In the mirror, he can see Mi’ihen getting up.  The man looks around briefly before spotting Nyx in the open doorway.  Tense shoulders drop as he stumbles over, legs just as numb and aching.  He spares a slap at Nyx’s ass as he passes, chuckling at the muffled groan as he takes care of business.

Nyx eyes the soft cock out of the corner of his mouth as he spits out minty foam.  Yup, there's a nice ring of pale pink lipstick.  His asshole’s twitching in memory (longing? Wtf, body?).  Switching to the mouthwash, he doesn’t relax back into that large body as it comes up behind him.  No, he doesn’t wistfully sigh as those bulging arms come around his waist to wash his hands.

Mi’ihen dries his hands by running them through the tangled mess that is Nyx’s hair.  While Nyx’s mouth is shy of burning from the alcohol content, he can’t peel himself away long enough to spit it out.  Those strong fingers scratching against his scalp, tugging real and fake strands of hair back into place is blissful.  Everyone in the Kingsglaive knows the best way to get the man to relax is by playing with his hair.

Mi’ihen even takes the time to braid his long hair so it’s out of the way.  “There we go,” he murmurs quietly, holding the strands around his face back when Nyx can no longer hold it in.  Leaning over to spit out the mouthwash lets him rub his aching ass against the soft cock.

“My turn,” Mi’ihen says when Nyx straightens.  “Need to freshen up by breath as well.”  He doesn’t let Nyx move out of the way, like he expected.  Instead, he holds him in place, one hand on his waist and the other to his chin.  He pulls Nyx into a deep kiss, tangling their tongues together and licking up every last trace of toothpaste and mouthwash he can find.

Nyx is moaning and rubbing back on that hardening cock in no time.  Despite the little sleep he’s had and the ache in his body, he could totally go for another round.

Or two.

Mi’ihen seems to agree, if the thigh wedging its way between his is anything to go by.  His fully hard cock’s dribbling precome against Nyx’s back within seconds as they continue to kiss their way to asphyxiation.  Both hands are holding hard enough to leave __more__  bruises by the time they finally break apart.

“Mmm, minty fresh.”  He turns Nyx around, gentling his embrace.  “One more time?  Before we must part ways,” Mi’ihen implores, staring Nyx straight in the eyes, ignoring his cock yearning to bury itself back into that amazing warmth.

Nyx is a heartbeat away from saying a very enthusiastic ‘YES!’ when a niggling voice in the back of his mind screams.  ‘ _ _Rule number one on honeypot missions: never__ ** _ ** _don’t_**_** _ _use condoms.’__   Health and safety and all that shit.  Not just to avoid any pregnancies.  

That voice of reason almost wins.  Until Mi’ihen’s got his mouth on him again.  Until those powerful arms are lifting him up to sit on the edge of the cold marble.  Mi’ihen crowds in, nuzzling and sniffing at his neck, imploring without words for consent.

“Damnit all,” comes the half growl/half whimper as Mi’ihen’s teeth find a sensitive spot just behind his ear.  “ _ _One__ more time.  And __don’t__ you dare come in me.”

“Of course, my treasure.”

 

~*~

 

One time became two which lead to five more times before the lunch hour arrived.  Mi’ihen tried his best not to release his load deep into that welcoming heat.  He really did.  But after the first time, striping Nyx’s bare back with his seed and licking it off, his arousal got the better of him.  

The next four times he came right inside Nyx.  He kept his softening cock inside, plugging the slighter man up until he was ready for another round.  Each time his lower belly bulged out a little more.  Each pulse of come coating his insides warmed him up just a little more.

Nyx was a little too wrung out to care.  He did give a weak protest at the last round, when Mi’ihen finally pulled out of his sore ass.  Globs of thick come poured out as he laid there on his belly.  It soaked his thong, dripped passed his own leaking cock into the sheets.

Voice of reason reared its head again.  ‘ _ _Get it out.  Out out out!’__   Reaching back, Nyx tries to do just that.  Bracing himself on one elbow, he reaches back with the other hand and plunges two fingers in.  Trembling, he starts removing what he can.  Distantly, he knows that if Mi’ihen has anything, this won’t really help, but…

Mi’ihen sits back and watches as his lady desperately tries to rid himself of all his hard work.  The angle’s bad and two fingers won’t be enough to remove the capacious amount he deposited.  Sometimes having an overactive reproductive system can bite him in the ass.  Pleasurably.  A minute goes by before he finally offers his assistance.

“Here, my love.  Let me help you.”  Mi’ihen pushes Nyx’s hand out of the way.  Down on his stomach, he proceeds to eat out Nyx’s ass until nothing of his come remains.  Licking his lips, he crawls back up the bed, rearranges them until they’re curled together like this morning.

Nyx is a shaking mess.  On Mi’ihen’s tongue alone, he’d actually come, squirting onto the other man’s chest.  Now that they were chest to chest, Nyx leans over and thoroughly cleans up his own mess.  He sucks hard on a nipple and suddenly he’s on his back again, with Mi’ihen sucking and fondling his breasts.

He’s got three wonderful fingers in Nyx’s pus- asshole, massaging his prostate, when they’re interrupted.  Not bothering to remove his fingers or silence Nyx’s wanton moaning, he angrily leans over and snatches his cell off the bedside table.

“What?” he snarls, crooking his fingers just right.  Nyx is crying into his arm as he comes, soft as ever and making another mess of himself.  Mi’ihen keeps viciously rubbing, listening in as he works Nyx towards another orgasm.  He sighs as he feels warm come coating his hand.  “Fine.  I’ll be there in a few.”

Below him, Nyx is holding onto the bed sheets, lifting his hips to escape those merciless fingers.  Mi’ihen’s having none of that after the sour news he just received.  He tosses the phone onto the bed and holds Nyx’s pelvis down, earning him a long groan and jerking hips.

He doesn’t stop until he has another coating on his hand.  By then Nyx is too blissed out and overstimulated to care what’s done to him.  He lets Mi’ihen stick his messy fingers in his mouth, weakly cleaning them.

By the time Nyx can string a coherent thought together, Mi’ihen is fully dressed and has him sitting up and slipping on one of his shoes.  He slowly slides it on, buckling the strap in place.  He places a kiss on top of Nyx’s foot before doing the same to the other foot.

Mi’ihen helps him stand, patiently waiting as Nyx regains his balance.  His feet are reminding him how much they don’t like this footwear.  The corset’s slipped back on, Nyx bracing himself on Mi’ihen broad shoulders as the man tightens it without having to pull away.  That kind of strength has Nyx breathless.  Either that or it’s from how tight his corset is this time.  He goes from focusing on regulating his breathing to zeroing in on that delicious backside walking away.

Delicious backside turns to delectable bulge when Mi’ihen turns around, suit jacket and dress in hand.  Obviously someone is still wanting another round.  He comes back, helps Nyx step into his dress.  Just like last night, he’s attentive of every inch of skin before it disappears as he zips him up.

Before Nyx can turn around and thank him, the suit jacket’s draped over his shoulders.  It’s a good two sizes too big and covered in his comforting scent.  Nyx slides his arms through and turns, a questioning expression on his face.

“The temperature has dropped since yesterday.  Use this to keep you warm.”  Mi’ihen draws him up into a kiss, soft and chaste compared to their earlier ones.  Nyx goes on his tip toes, hands cupping Mi’ihen’s cheeks to deepen the kiss.  Both are hesitant to pull away.  It’s only when Mi’ihen’s phone rings again from the bed that they finally separate with equally unhappy sighs.  

Nyx lets him go, motioning with his head to go ahead and answer.  He pulls the jacket more securely around him.  As he does so, he hears paper crinkling inside one of the pockets.  With Mi’ihen’s back to him, voice low as he speaks to the caller, Nyx starts rooting through the many pockets.

A couple pieces of gum, an unused tissue, spare coins.  It’s in the inside breast pocket that he finds it.  Pulling out the small paper, he reads the neat script on it.

__Call me some time… if you wish_ _

Underneath the hesitant message is a phone number.  Mi’ihen’s phone number.

“Only if you wish to.”  Mi’ihen’s back and holding Nyx against his chest by his hips.  Phone call obviously finished, he offers, “Let me walk you to a taxi.”  He puts on his shoes, holds the door open for Nyx, and walks him out.  

Nyx is beyond grateful for the warm hand resting low on his back.  So much sex in less than 24 hours and these heels leave him more than a little unsteady on his feet again.  

Outside in the fresh air, he’s shocked to find that the weather has indeed cooled down significantly.  He’d thought it was just a ploy.  The chill spring air whips at his legs, chilling him right through his stockings.  Another gust of wind and he’s curling up to Mi’ihen’s side as he hails a taxi.

“You weren’t fucking kidding!”  

“No,” Mi’ihen agrees as a taxi pulls up beside them.  “But it still worked to slip my number to you, didn’t it?”

Nyx snorts out a laugh as he’s pulled into one more kiss.  Ever the gentleman, Mi’ihen opens the door for him, holds his hand and he gingerly sits down on the seat, and shuts the door.

A solid barrier between them and his head clears a little more.  He hastily gives the driver the address to the Citadel and leans back.  Shoving his hands into the pockets of the jacket, feeling the coins within, reminds him that he has no money on him.  Hopefully the driver won’t mind waiting for him to run inside and get some.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lord Mi'ihen's only being used as name and appearance. Also, yeah, Nyx is a little semi-passive, that'll be explained later ^_~


	4. After the Mission...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nyx comes home to his Kingsglaive family. They aren't too happy with him when they find out about the morning's activities.

Turns out, the driver’s a friend of Lord Mi’ihen.  He waves off Nyx’s insistence that he pays something.  He also opens the door for Nyx and offers his arm to walk him to the door of the Citadel.

Just as Nyx is starting to enjoy all this chivalrous treatment, the door shuts behind him.  

And in front of him is the collective might of the Kingsglaive.  They stand in a semicircle around him, varying degrees of expectation and anger and relief painted plainly across their faces.

Crowe is the first to speak up.

“Do you have any idea what time it is, young lady?”

Low chuckling around them.  Tense shoulders relax a fraction, anger dissipates into disapproving frowns.  Nyx is about to answer when something else does for him.

__grrrruuuuggglllleee_ _

Dead silence.  With his blush all but rubbed off onto the hotel sheets, everyone can see his actual blush on his cheeks.  Everyone breaks into laughter, honest to Shiva, knee-slapping and wheezing laughter.

Struggling to catch his breath, Libertus stumbles forward to clap a friendly hand on Nyx’s hunched shoulder.  “That bastard didn’t feed you at all, did he?”  At his friend’s dejected head shake, he admits, “Honestly, we were all expecting you to come back, holding your corset in hand because of all the room service you would order in his name!”

“Why didn’t you?” someone shouts from the back of the group crowding him in.  They all know how much he likes ordering room service on someone else’s coin, after all (who wouldn’t?).

Nyx’s blush intensifies.  “We…might have been… a little… preoccupied… with other things…” he manages to mumble out, voice fading out as he sees their eyes widen in shock.

“How many times did you two fuck?!”

“Last night or this morning?” Nyx manages to ask.  The stunned silence that follows makes him realize that was a mistake.   _ _Why__  does he keep opening his mouth around these assholes he calls friends?

“Both, you dog!”

Thankfully, Nyx’s stomach makes its displeasure of being empty known again.  “Food first, then I’ll tell you during the debrief.”

“More like,” Libertus states, directing him and everyone else towards the canteen, “you tell us between bites of food.”

“And then,” Pelna comes up on his other side, hand resting on his hip.  “Then we’ll show you how worried we were when you didn’t check in last night and this morning.”

“Damn right!” several others agree.  “Reclaiming!” a handful of others cheer.

Luche decides __then__  to pipe up with, “We still have a few more hours until the saline’s completely absorbed…”

The gravity of the situation hits Nyx like a sucker punch to the chest:  he’s not going to get any peace or respite for at __least__  the rest of the day.

If he’s lucky.

 

~*~

 

Every holy deity is looking down positively on Nyx, it seems.  Because not only does no one outside of the ‘Glaives see him like this, but also the canteen is devoid of anyone other than the cooks.

Several ‘Glaives get him settled into a chair, delighted and curious when he lets out a strangled whimper.  He’s __definitely__  feeling the after effects of the last twenty or so hours.  Pelna and Crowe walk off to get him something to eat, threats of immense pain should he start telling his story before they return.

In the handful of minutes they’re gone, the others try to get him to do just that.  Nyx knows better though.  Crowe’s threats like that usually involve edging him for a whole day along with causing a foot high pile of paperwork.  After everything he’s been through, he can’t deal with that right now.

So instead, he deflects their questions, asking his own about how things went.

“Well,” Sonitus starts when everyone else stills.  “We got what we needed.  You did a good job of keeping Lord Mi’ihen __busy__  for us.”  He waits until the giggling dies down.  “So, he is ex-military.  Highest rank before he deflected.  Still not sure __what__ , exactly, caused he to turn his back.  There’s a list of his known associates along with his radical followers.”

“There’s still more that we’re working on cracking,” Pelna adds.  He and Crowe sit down, plopping a tray down in front of Nyx.  “He’s got hundreds of heavily encrypted files.  Some look like they’re on him.”

Nyx nods, half listening as he digs in.  Just the smell of it reminds him that he’s ravenous.  He’s close to growling when one of his fellow ‘Glaives pulls his tray away.  It’s only the soothing, “Slow down before you choke yourself, dumbass,” that stops him.  He obeys when it becomes clear that no one will give him his food back until he does.

They finish their end of the debrief as he takes the last bite of food.  He gulps down the last of his water, wiping his mouth off with his arm.  Slouching back in his seat, he closes his eyes for a moment.

They snap open a second later when he feels the heavy weight of multiple eyes on his person.

A warm hand on his thigh jerks him into sitting upright.  He follows the hand up to Libertus’ face.  There’s the same thirst in his eyes form last night.  “Your turn, Nyx.”  The hand creeps up his thigh, fingers idly playing with the band of his stocking.

Nyx gives a full-body shudder in want.  “Fuck, yes.  But not here.”  It seems eleven times isn’t enough for him today.  He grab’s Lib’s hand and places it over the hand-shaped bruise on his inner thigh.

“No chance of an audience this time, baby?” Crowe coos into his ear, nibbling lightly.  She’s got a hand sliding in underneath the arm hole of his dress.  Nimble fingers squeeze his tit, rolling his hard nipple until he gasps in pleasure.

He feverishly shakes his head.  “No, no.  Not as comfortable.”  There’s another hand on his other thigh, inching closer to his crotch.  “Remem- _ _uunngg__!  Remember when we celebrated the New Year in here!”  That hand’s making itself quite familiar with him.  Like it wasn’t already.  “Everyone was complaining for __weeks__  on how much their knees or ba- _ _ahhh__ -cks hurting.”

“Good point.”

For the second time in a day, he’s thrown over a shoulder.  There’s no spinning around, thank the Six.  Not sure his stomach could’ve handled it after stuffing his face.  

The ‘Glaives make quick work of moving him back into their area, Mi’ihen’s jacket being used to hide Nyx’s ass peeking out from under his dress.  Once safely behind closed doors the jacket’s ripped away like it’d personally offended all of them.  Which, in all regards, it probably had since it didn’t belong to any of them.  A hand on his thigh stops the one carrying him from putting him down.

“Ulric…”

‘Oh shit.  That’s Pelna’s __I’m disappointed in you__  tone.’  Nyx instantly regrets anything he did to earn that.  He can’t recall anything that would-

Oh…

Oh shit…

Someone roughly pulls down his thong.  A new set of hands pull his asscheeks apart, putting his gaping hole on display for everyone to see.  A thick finger swipes up his inner thigh to his asshole.  It plunges in without warning and __bends__.

Nyx lets out a strangled moan and grips at the belt in his face tighter. Trying to close his legs is futile.  Everyone in the ‘Glaive is strong enough to hold the other down when it’s called for.  Apparently, now is one of those times.  Not to mention the awkward position he’s in.

“Care to explain what __this__  is, Nyx?”

That finger rooting around in his ass slides free.  Crowe’s grabbing a fistful of his hair and yanking his head up so he can see what Pelna’s holding in front of him.  He goes cross-eyed for a second until he can finally focus on his friend’s come coated finger.  ‘Shit, he didn’t get everything!’

“Uhhh, it’s mine?”

Pelna flicks his finger away in disgust.  “Nice try.  Someone get the kit.”

“You guys know it’s too soon, right?”  Nyx’s protests fall on deaf ears.  He’s manhandled onto the table in the middle of the room.  Laying flat on his back, he waits impatiently for them to finish worrying.  “Even if he had anything, which all his records said he __didn’t__ , it won’t show up for a good month at least!”

“Maybe so,” Luche agrees, readying everything.  “But it will make us feel better until that time.  Now, hold still.”  A quick pinch, blood and excess semen drawn, and everything’s sealed away and sent with a runner.

“It’s not just about making sure you’re still clean.”

Nyx’s heart starts beating double time from the furious growl Libertus’ voice carries.  Twisting around, he can just barely make out his friend’s face before everyone starts grabbing at his clothes, cutting them and his necklace off.  Pearls go skittering across the floor as blades expertly strip him.

He looks thoroughly debauched and they haven’t even done anything to him yet.  His dress is gone, bra and corset have left angry red lines in their wake.  Thong and garter belt cut off quickly.  Even his stockings are cut away, leaving him in his heels and a mockery of socks that cutting his stockings had created.

All that’s left, besides his shoes and a fragment of his stockings, are the jewelry adoring his arms and ankles and hands.  His wig, his make-up, and of course the tape holding his cock and balls in place.

His chest is heaving as he sucks in air, knowing what’s to come first of the reclaiming process.  One that they’ve had in place since the first honeypot mission.  It’s all about reasserting their place within the fold.  And safety, which never takes a back seat when it comes to what the Kingsglaive call their own.

Two ‘Glaives gather the necessary parts while another two roll Nyx onto his side.  There’s a quiet murmuring about how loose and red his hole is before a slicked tube is inserted.  It’s pushed in a good three inches before the plug on it settles halfway past his rim.  Behind him, he can hear the others talking as they set everything up.

“Shh, it’s okay, Nyx.”  Crowe’s got her hand behind his left knee, pulling it forward so he’s in a more comfortable position.  “It doesn’t hurt that much, you’ll just feel really full for ten minutes, then you can empty it all out.”

It takes another pair of hands stroking his back and arms to realize that he’s whining low in his throat.  He tries to stop, but Crowe’s words only serve to turn them into desperate moans, images of what she had looked like two weeks ago when it had been her turn, flooding his brain.

They’d filled up both her holes, making her look like she was a good six months pregnant by the time the cleaning solutions had emptied their bags.  All the ‘Glaives had spent the time waiting for time to be up practically worshiping her and her taut belly.

There’s two fingers playing with the head of his cock.  Pinching and pulling and squeezing.  Within seconds he’s leaking, hips twitching as he’s played with.  Hands covered in callouses hold him in place so as to not undo all their hard work.

“Oh, I don’t think he’s dreading it as much as you think,” comes one of the voices - feminine, smoky, and still slightly unfamiliar.  She’s new, only been here two months, but a fast learner.  “Just look at how much he’s spurting out!”  She presses the palm of her other hand against the length of his cock and grinds her heel at the base.  “If there was anymore force behind it, I’d say he could be squirtin’ like a woman!” 

“Three times, I think,” he admits, when he feels his insides being warmed by the cleaning solution starting to pour in.  He’s blushing all the way down to his shoulders when the whole thing makes him actually shoot out a rope of come.  “Maybe four.”

“Oh fuck me,” someone groans behind him.

“Can’t,” he shoots back, breathless as he’s filled.  “A little busy at the moment.”  More liquid floods his insides, a mild burn following as it does.  It’s only been two minutes, it’d taken Crowe’s five, and already his belly’s swelling up.

His hands are restrained.  They’re still worried he might bolt.  But that doesn’t stop the others from reaching what they can.  It’s only fair that since Nyx got to feel his pecs filling out to breasts, that they get to get a hand on his stomach.  For which he is immensely thankful.

As his bowels are filled and cleansed of that intruder’s presence, those rough hands ease the stretch.  Rubbing, pressing, helping ease the ache building deep inside.  They move in sync, everyone having done this before to help others through.  Mentally, he follows their hands, using them to lull himself into a pleasantly fuzzy headspace.

A sudden jolt of pain, like something’s ripping along his side makes him gasp.  A hand finds the spot before he can say anything, inspecting the area as the flow of solution slows.  

“There’s nothing there, Nyx,” floats down to him.  He’s spacing too much to place the voice.  “Only a little more left.  Are you okay to continue?”  The hand starts kneading the area, sharp pain easing to a dull reminder.

Libertus is suddenly kneeling in front of his face.  When did he get there?  Nyx tries to focus on him, but everything’s too bright, too distracting.  There’s hands and voices and movement __everywhere__ -

“Fucking hell, you should see how huge his pupils are!  Hey, hey Nyx!”  He pats his friend gently on the cheek twice.  It takes a few seconds until those eyes finally __look__  at him.  “You’ve got about one more minute of this.  You good?”

Nyx gives a weak nod.  He feels both heavy and light, limbless and bloated like a beached whale.  His head’s going to float away from his body before all of this is finished.  Libertus’ disapproving head shake is confusing and more than a little upsetting.

“Words, buddy.  Give us words or we stop now.”

Nyx manages a croaky, “finish it,” a minute later.  Around him, a collective cheer is released.  Hands are suddenly moving all over him again, voices praising him for doing so well for them.

He soaks it up as the flow is resumed.  Only another minute, Libertus promised.  Another minute, another minute, minute minute minute-

Suddenly the plug and tubing are gone.  Nyx starts panicking, there’s solution gushing out of his ass before he’s ready to clench down.  A fellow ‘Glaive has his back, though, as they get a slightly larger plug settled in place, stoppering him up.

The hands on him shift to sit him upright.

Then standing.

The shifting in weight and balance knocks him back to the here and now rather abruptly.  Feet are pulsing angrily at the added weight on them as they’re still trapped in their heels.  His belly’s protruding enough that he looks like he’d indulged himself too much at the party last night.

He won’t say that he’s a little let down that he doesn’t look as heavy as Crowe had.  That’s just ridiculous.

“Come on, sweetheart, let’s walk it off.”

Two ‘Glaives take him by the arms and help him walk around the room.  He has to sway his hips even more, despite the dull ache the weight puts there.  His escorts stop him in front of each member of the Kingsglaive, holding him steady so they can attend to him.

Everyone takes their time, exploring the silvery stretch marks adorning his sides.  Tracing them light as a feather, setting him to shivering each time.  Hands curve around his gradually receding breasts, pulling on his nipples to stretch them out again.  Down the swell of his stomach, pressing here and there to move the solution around.  Over his still restrained cock, playfully smacking it, smearing his precome all over the head, having him clean their fingers with his tongue.

He’s happily floating again, all the pains distant and easily ignored as he’s petted and cooed at.  The room’s overly warm, from all the bodies surrounding him, covering his body in an enticing sheen of sweat.  Everyone’s getting handsier, more insistent in their affections.  Whispers of bending him over now, playing with his hole, fucking it to see if anything comes out when they do.

But Nyx’s body is starting to let him know that time’s almost up.  A grumbling in his bowels is pulling him back down into his body.  His stomach’s cramping a little, not horribly, but enough to remind him that it’s not all sexy times anymore.  Automatically, his knees start to bend, hindbrain telling him that he needs to expel it all __right now__.

“What’s wrong, Nyx?”  Luche is next to him in an instant.  He’s got a hand over Nyx’s swell, pressing down lightly.  ‘Nothing feels abnormal…’

“Bathroom, __now__.”

Luche and Tredd help him get to a toilet in time.  While he’s sitting there, they remove his shoes and the remnants of his stockings.  Finished, they settle him into the tub, shushing his wrung out whimpers at the cool tile against his overheated skin.  

This is __not__  the part that usually comes next in the whole reclaiming sequence.  He lets them know how displeased he is by this turn of events.  Loudly.

“Would you just calm down?” Tredd practically yells back at Nyx’s complaining.  “You positively __reek__  of that asshole’s cologne!  And we’re tired of smellin’ it on you!”

Between the two of them, they get him scrubbed down and hosed off quickly.  He’s finally freed of what must be the entire roll of tape Libertus used on him.  Luche carefully examines every bit of him that was bound.  He gets a full body shudder from Nyx as he coaxes his balls drop back down into their sac.  

“I want an actual bath later!” he grouses as he’s walked back into the main room.  He’s still swaying his hips, allowing his limp cock and balls to swing to and fro in their renewed freedom.

“Yeah, yeah, princess.  You got it.”  Tredd’s got a handful of his ass as he helps him, middle finger rubbing against Nyx’s hole.

“Ah, fuck you, Tredd.  Don’t be jealous that it was my turn.”  Nyx tilts his lower back, sighing as that finger slides in just past the first knuckle.

“Ha!  I’ll show you jealous, you nympho!” comes the retort.  Tredd crushes Nyx to his chest, one hand tangling in his hair to yank his head back for a kiss.  He grinds his hardon against Nyx, taking blind steps towards the others waiting behind them.

“You won’t be the only one!”

There’s hands all over Nyx’s still wet body.  They slide all around, tracing his bangles, using his bracelets to pull his hands back.  Within seconds he’s settled onto the pile of cushions and blankets on the floor they use just for such an occasion.

He’s got a warm body under him - Libertus - sliding his cock in without so much as a hello.  Lib’s thick fingers hold him in place as he thrusts up into his friend.  Mouth and teeth working overtime to mark over Mi’ihen’s.  The ribbed condom that he favors so much is hitting Nyx’s insides in all the right places.

As Libertus takes him from behind, Crowe’s got a hand on his cock, slowly stroking him to hardness after rolling on a condom.  Her and another ‘Glaive tag team him, suckling on the head, laving at his balls with long strokes of their tongues.  It takes a bit, but soon enough they have him hard and leaking just like normal.  And just like normal Crowe gets to ride him first.

She matches pace with Libertus, rising up when he does, falling back down when he pulls out.  She’s got her hands back on Nyx’s barely-there tits, squeezing them in time with their thrusts.  Knowing how much she likes it, Nyx gives her’s a quick flick of his fingers before going down to her clit.  There he mimics her, bringing her to a quicker orgasm than expected.

She kisses him quick and dirty before sliding off his still hard cock.  Another ‘Glaive, male this time after licking him clean, takes her place.  As he fucks himself on Nyx, another has two fingers wiggling their way in along side Libertus’ cock.  

“C’mon, baby, loosen up for me.  Yeah, that’s it.”  Those fingers scissor him open, rubbing against his prostate, making him twist and jerk in pleasure.  When four fingers can thrust in and out easily, they leave him, replaced with another cock.  

A nice pierced cock.  Sonitus.  Sonitus, who likes it hard and rough.  He grabs Nyx’s legs and spreads them wider, making his inner thighs cry at the stretch.  Nothing Nyx can’t handle right now.  But he’ll sure as hell be demanding massages from those talented fingers later on.

Once he’s not having his brains fucked out of him.

Time passes slowly as they reclaim him after the first round.  There’s no need to rush anymore:  he’s sweaty and covered in their mixed fluids, in their own familiar scents.  If he hadn’t gone without condoms earlier, he could’ve been covered in even more, they chide him gently.

‘Glaives trade spots randomly, ensuring that they each get a hole or a hand or mouth.  They give each other sips of water along with tidbits of food for Nyx.  A good two hours pass before everything comes to a peaceful end.  

The last thing he vaguely remembers is a cock thrusting down his throat, cutting off his air for seconds at a time.  A twitching cock in one hand, the other almost fist deep in a welcoming pussy.  They’ve taken to keeping his ass full of two cocks at once while someone else takes his.

He’s halfway asleep and too overstimulated to even __feel__  anymore.  But he knows that the pressure sliding along his skin isn’t bare hands.  It’s a wet cloth, warm and soapy, cleaning him off.  Pressure against his limbs, making sure everything’s in working order and removing the last of his jewelry.  A rhythmic pulling on his scalp. Combing? Removing the fake hair?  Doesn’t matter so long as they keep it up.

Finally, finally he’s positioned on his side, bodies all around him.  Everyone slowly settles down as well, having checked on each other, going another round or two where needed to wear them the rest of the way down.  Blankets are halfheartedly grabbed, mostly covering toes and lower legs, knowing they’ll likely be kicked off later in the night.

Limbs entangled, hair in faces or trapped under a shoulder.  Breasts, stomachs, arms; all available as places to rest their heads as hearts slow down.  Breathing syncs up as they fall asleep.  They’re whole again and that makes the mission more of a success than all the information they may or may not have recovered.

 


	5. Arranging a Meeting...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nyx is losing sleep since the mission. It can't be because of Mi'ihen, can it?

A month passes too quickly and yet too slowly for Nyx’s tastes.  His results came back at the end of the month negative, much to everyone’s joy.  They have a second reclaiming, everyone taking great pleasure in not having to use condoms as they fuck and are fucked by Nyx.  

He doesn’t tell them about how the doctors had muttered of ‘foreign bodies’ in his blood.  Stays quiet about the second and third round of samples they’ve gathered over the month.  There’s nothing to link it to the mission and the doctors assure him that it’s not harmful or contagious.

For now.

Meanwhile, the work on taking down Lord Mi’ihen and his fanatic followers gradually picks up speed.  Breaking several of the encrypted files tells the Kingsglaives when and where many of the smaller meetings will take place.  It gives names and occupations of several of the lower level members, making it easier than ever to hunt them down for the King’s council to interrogate.

~*~

“Why’re we even __doing__  this in the first place?” Tredd grumbles as he and two other ‘Glaives arrest their fifth cult member of the night.  “And just how many of these bastards __are there?!__ ”

Bellum appears from the shadows with number six - a skinny little runner.  “What?  Would you rather be sitting in the citadel doing paperwork and inventory?”  He manhandles the runt of the group to the ground.  “’Cuz that’s what we’d be doing right now since there’s no more war.”

“We’ve lucked out in that department,” Crowe adds on.  In her hands are several binders full of plans and diagrams.  Inside her many pockets are handfuls of memory sticks, all with information pertaining to more attacks on their fair city.  Behind her, the room that had contained all that information was starting to smell worryingly smokey.

“Yeah,” Bellum chuckles.  “Nyx and Luche are stuck doing just that!”

“Speaking of…”  Tredd trails off as he wrangles his man to the ground.  Both men are sporting quite a few bruises from their altercation.  “Nyx lookin’ all right to you guys?”

“Wha’d ya mean?”

Tredd shrugs uncomfortably.  “I mean…  He’s been looking really tired lately and forgetting things.”

Crowe hums her agreement as she dumps all the folders on the nearest table.  Starting to sort through them, she adds her own thoughts.  “He… has been looking kinda out of it, lately.  I just chalked it up to all the stress from this new mission.”

“Yeah,” Bellum is quick to agree.  “He’s probably not getting enough downtime from all the work that’s going on.  Ya know:  the joys of being in charge.”

“Maybe…” Tredd reluctantly agrees.  

“Anyways.  Let’s get all this shit back to the citadel and then we can wrestle Nyx away from everything for a bit.  That make you feel better?”

“...yeah…” 

~*~

Back in his office, Nyx squints against the evening sunlight piercing into his brain through his eyes.  Even with the curtains shut, shards of light still manage to get through to torment him.  The light from his desk lamp is as low as it can go and still enable him to read.

At least, somewhat read.

He’s going on week five of less than three hours of sleep a night.  Nyx is the kinda guy that needs seven hours __bare minimum__.  Getting less than half of that for over a month is showing.

His signature has become almost undecipherable due to how much his hands are trembling.  The light hurts his eyes, stabbing straight through them into his brain.  He has stared people in the eyes and asked them to repeat themselves a good three or four times because he just couldn’t process their words.  It now takes him twice as long to finish his office work, which in turn makes him stay out even later.

Tredd was right to be worried about Nyx’s well being.

It’s well past eleven the next time he looks at the clock.  The Citadel’s as quiet as a tomb.  Crowe and Tredd’s attempts at getting him to leave falling on deaf ears.  Everyone who’s able has gone home for the night.  Glancing down at the unread mission report, Nyx finally decides to call it a night.

‘Tomorrow,’ he thinks, gathering up his jacket.  ‘Tomorrow I’ll get Crowe or Luche to help out.’  With that, he stumbles his way home and to a bed that no longer feels as welcoming as it used to.

~*~

Lying flat on his back, in nothing more than one of the low-cut panties he’d bought weeks ago, Nyx internally screams in frustration.  Aching eyes watch the ceiling fan lazily spin ‘round and ‘round, the blades going in and out of focus.  An empty mug sits on his bedside table, next to an alarm clock reading 3:59a.m., remnants of some tea promising sleep coating the inside.

He’d casually brought up his sleeping problem to the doctors after two weeks.  So far everything that they’d suggested hasn’t worked.

Tea?  Does nothing more than leave a nasty coating on his tongue.

Counting anything?  Loses count too often and winds up frustrated even more.

Masturbating?  Both his arms are worn out from the workout, along with his dick being rubbed raw despite how much lube he’d used.

Fucking?  There’s only so many times he can go to his fellow ‘Glaives and fuck and be fucked into unconsciousness without them asking questions he has no answers to.

Not for the first time, his mind lazily floats towards thoughts of Mi’ihen.  

What’s he doing right now?  They haven’t been able to locate his main base, nor his personal lodging.  Is he planning another attack?  They’d just managed to avert one last week.  He and his followers __must__  be getting frustrated by now.  

Is he sleeping right now?  Alone?  Or has he found someone to replace hi- Nicole?  Was all he said that night nothing but empty promises to get him in bed?

Or is he missing out on as much sleep as he is?

__~There’s only one way to find out…~_ _

“I’m ****not****  calling him!” Nyx growls, sitting upright on rumpled sheets.  “I don’t even have his number anymore.”

That insidious little voice chuckles at him.  ~ _ _Oh, what a liiiiiie that is!  You know__ ** _ ** _exactly_**_** _ _where that scrap of paper is, don’t you?~__

He can __feel__  that voice, that formless presence wrap around his legs, forcing him to stand.  At least, that’s how he justifies getting up only to fall to his knees beside his bed.  

__~It’s not that hard.  Just call him up.  Ask him questions.  Listen to his voice and you’ll be able to sleep the night through.~_ _

It’s that:  the promise of falling asleep that has him reaching under his bed.  The chill running down his spine is from the fan, certainly __not__  the thought of hearing Mi’ihen’s voice in his ear again.  When his hand closes around the plastic evidence bag containing the ‘borrowed’ jacket Nyx lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

__~Open it.  Call him.  Tell him you want to give his jacket back.  Surely he’s as unhappy to be without it as he is being without you?~_ _

“You mean, not phased at all?”  Nyx’s knees ache from kneeling on the floor for so short a time.  Straightening, he drops the item on his bed and sits next to it.  “We know he comes from old money.  He probably has a dozen suit jackets just like this one.”

As soon as he opens the plastic bagging he’s hit right in the face with that enticing cologne Mi’ihen favors.  It sucker punches him into gasping, inhaling even more.  The scent carries faint traces of sweat and musk as well.  All three mixed together, along with Nyx’s sleep-deprived brain, are a terrible combination.

He’s arching back to lie on his bed.  Jacket to his nose, hand rubbing at his cock through the satin panties.  Asshole clenching in wait to welcome a large cock.  His nipples harden as he spreads his legs for a body that isn’t there.  Whole body trembling in want -in need- of Mi’ihen’s warmth and strength.

His panties are soaked in seconds, soft cock leaking like there’s no tomorrow, as he gently rubs himself.  He wants to get hard, wants to languidly stroke himself off.  But his body __remembers__.  It remembers how well it was treated when he stayed limp for Mi’ihen.  When Mi’ihen was able to slide right into his hot body and find his release.

He’s shivering through as orgasm so quickly his head spins.  It’s stronger and more pleasant then any of the ones he’s had with his fellow ‘Glaives.  That fact rolls around between uneven breaths and dissipates just as soon as it popped up.

The only thing that matters right now is rubbing Mi’ihen’s scent all over him.  Over his face, his neck, his chest.  Smooth fabric teases at his nipples, tickles the space below his navel.  He makes sure not to sully it with his own fluids, though the room had smelled quite nice with their scents combined.

Hand wracked with fine tremors reaches for the inside pocket.  Paper with Mi’ihen’s number is quickly extracted and held up to the weak moonlight.  Nyx drapes the jacket over his shoulders and crawls over to the nightstand on his belly.

Rumpled sheets dragging against his ruined panties left him breathless as he grabs his phone.  Using the light from the display, he quickly dials Mi’ihen’s number before the high wears off.  He’s not backing down.  Not now.

“Hello?”

That deep, gravely voice travels from his phone straight down to his groin.  Cock and asshole twitch excitedly just from hearing his voice again.  ‘Down, boys!’ Nyx mentally berates them and himself.

“Who is this?” Mi’ihen sounds not only as exhausted as Nyx but also irritated.

“Mi’i-” Nyx’s voice cracks halfway through the name.  “Mi’ihen?  It’s me, Nic-”

__“Nicole.”__   His pseudo name is breathed out along the line like a prayer being answered.  Nyx’s traitorous heart does a funny little flip flop when he hears Mi’ihen speak again.  “My treasure.  It’s been too long.  I’ve missed you so much.”

The naked honesty in the other man’s voice has Nyx floored.  And thankful that he was lying down in the first place.  His knees go weak even as they aren’t supporting any weight.  He hadn’t even thought of what he was going to say, so sure that Mi’ihen wanted nothing to do with him that all he can get out through the lump in his throat is, “I- Mi’ihen, I-”

There’s a sharp inhale, tinny but audible, when he can’t say anything else.  “Are you all right, Nicole?  Do you need help?”  Over his own harsh gasping, Nyx can hear as Mi’ihen starts to get up, the rustling of clothing.

__~See?  I told you~__  the coiling voice sing songs as Mi’ihen softly curses in the background, something heavy thumping onto the floor.

Roughly Nyx clears his throat.  “No.  No, I’m okay.  I just…  I didn’t think you wanted to, ya know…”

Silence.  Neither man can hear the other’s breathing, both holding their breath in wait for the other to speak first.  Finally, Nyx breaks it when he gets a good whiff of the bigger man’s cologne.  Jacket held in a death grip to his mouth, he chokes out, “Iwanttoseeyouagain,” in one breath.

When Mi’ihen doesn’t respond, he tries to clarify, “Your jacket.  I still…  I have it here, with me now.  I should… give it back to you.”

The digital clock on his bedside table quietly blinks to 4:17a.m. as he awaits a response.

“Is tomorrow evening too soon?”  Mi’ihen sounds as hopeful as Nyx won’t let himself be.  “You don’t have to-  There’s no need to be Nicole.  I wish to meet __you__  this time.”

Instead of a smooth reply Nyx chokes on his spit.  Clearing his throat, he manages to gasp out a wheezy, “where?”

He can hear Mi’ihen humming over the line, thinking through just where to go.  “There’s a quiet cafè two blocks from the Citadel.  Is that all right with you?”

He knows __exactly__  where that is.  The baristas and their magical concoctions had saved the sleep-deprived Kingsglaives many times over since their creation.  “Yeah.  Yeah, that’ll work.  Are you sure you want to meet… __me__?”

“Yes,” comes a firm answer, leaving no room for arguing.

“Okay.  I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

“It’s a date.”

Both men hang up, ridiculous smiles on their faces.  Unknowingly, they fall asleep within seconds of each other.  Neither wake until late morning, to the exasperation and relief of their fellow coworkers.


	6. Coffee Date and Talking...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Halfway through finishing this chapter... my hard drive crashed. And OF COURSE I didn't have it backed up at all. Strangely enough, starting basically from scratch was really helpful. This wound up being much longer than originally intended.

Coffee Date and Talking…

It’s a quarter past ten when Nyx finally shows his face at work.  Everyone else watches in disbelief as he marches past them, settles down behind his desk and gets to work.

Crowe’s gradually widen at the pace at which Nyx starts going through all his paperwork.  Within an hour, he’s finished everything that he’s been putting off.  Without taking her eyes off the what must be a mirage in front of her, she slaps around on her desk for a notepad.

Daring to blink her drying eyes, she scribbles down everything.  
****1\. Late to work, but looks like slept well**** ** **  
**** ** **2\. Doing ALL paperwork, almost finished!!!**** ** **  
**** ** **3\. Brought in a bundle of something, shoved it in lower desk drawer**** ** **  
**** **** **4\. What the ever loving Astrals is going on???**

Glancing back up from her notepad, she eyes the man and jots down one more fact.  
******5\. Still looks like shit though**

Knowing the best way to fix that, Crowe hesitantly takes her eyes fully off her captain to text Sonitus.  

~*~

Loud moaning could be heard throughout the Kingsglaive offices during the last half of their lunch hour.

Sonitus had received Crowe’s text and responded accordingly.  As soon as the bell struck noon, he was in the captain’s office.  First to feed the man, making sure he’ll have enough energy for the day.  Then to work out the tenseness obvious in his posture.  Shoulders and neck were hard as rocks until Sonitus had his way with them.  

Which couldn’t be done while Nyx was sitting in his chair.  Oh, no.  Sonitus had him take off his shirt as he cleared the desk top.  Vials of essential oils were pulled out of hidden pockets as Nyx cushioned his chest with his shirt and jacket.  Bent over his desk, arms propping his head up, the ‘glaive waited.

As always, Sonitus didn’t disappoint.

Oil warmed from both body heat in pocket and by hands, found their way to his lower back first.  Firm, sure hands press down in circles, removing stubborn knots.  Thick fingers dig in on either side of the spine to chase them up to the top.  Elbows join in once they’re at the shoulder blades.  There they grind away knots, quite painfully going by the whimpers coming from Nyx.

But he doesn’t tell him to stop.  They both know that it’s pain before pleasure.

And Sonitus makes sure that anyone who experiences pain from his hands then get pleasure.  At least, the ones that he loves do.  Enemies, not so much.  Just a double order of pain for them.

Once he has Nyx reduced to nothing more than a limp noodle, he slides his hands __slowly__  down, down, down.  Always asking permission, verbally or not.  When he gets an enticing wiggle of hips, he proceeds with the best part of his massages.

~*~

Half an hour later, Sonitus and Crowe shared a high five as snoring drifted out from the office.

“He’s still got another pile of shit to look through,” he fills her in, swooping down for a peck on the cheek.

She turns her head in time to make out with him for a full minute.  “Don’t worry,” she gasps, “I’ll wake him in thirty or so.  How goes cracking those new files Libertus found?”

“Good.”  He plants one thick thigh on her desk.  Leaning over, he whispers unnecessarily, “Found out they’ve got a meet going down tomorrow night.  Some of the younger members are gathering at a local dance club.  Looks like the mission is to recruit more in a ‘trust-worthy’ environment.”

Crowe steeples her fingers, eyes narrowed in thought.  After a moment, she asks, “What do we know about this dance club?”

“Clientele ranges from late teens to late thirties.  Known for laid back rules, loud music, not a lot of flashing lights.”

“Drugs?  Alcohol?” she asks with a raised eyebrow.  Those two, in any combination, would work wonders in getting new recruits real quick.

But Sonitus shakes his head.  “Nope.  Neither of those are allowed.  They only allow smoking if it’s those vapes or e-cigarettes.  Anyone caught drunk or high are booted right outta there.”

“Fighting?”

“Booted.”

“Well, it sounds kinda boring, to be honest.”

The large man chuckles.  “I know, it does.  But we figure that’s why it’ll be such a good spot for picking up newbies.  Find the ones really bored and offer them something more exciting.”

“So, who’s going then?”

“We’ve got Libertus going with some of our own new recruits.  Thought about-”

A __very__  loud snort-like snore startled both of them into looking at Nyx’s closed door.  Holding their breaths they could faintly hear him groaning as he wakes himself up from the impromptu nap.

“Ya know,” Sonitus drawls, a smile creeping along his face.  “He did __so well__  on the last undercover mission…”

“That he did.  That he did,” comes Crowe’s agreement.

Both just watch the door.  Listening in as the man stumbles his way to them.

Nyx has creases all along the left side of his face from laying on his hair.  Blearily he stares at them, at the shit-eating grins on their faces.  Couple blinks to clear his eyes while he leans against the door frame.  Another glance at them, with those grins and the __evil__  in their eyes.

“Nope.”  Nyx about-faces, slams the door shut, and locks it for good measure.  Not like the flimsy wood could really keep them out.

“Awww, come on, Nyx!”

“No!  I have plans for after work!”

“It’s not ‘til tomorrow, you big baby!”

“Show me the Intel and I’ll think about it!”

~*~

At exactly five o’clock Nyx shot out of his office like a bolt of lightning.  He didn’t even spare with farewells as he passes his fellow ‘glaives.  Several had to actually desperately reach for their papers that got blown out of their grip.  

He knew that they should have agreed to a bit later for their meet up.  As it was, he’s going to be late.  To prevent him from being too late, the captain of the Kingsglaive warped part of the way.

At the front door to the coffee shop, he pauses hunched over to catch his breath.  Don’t want to set a bad impression for the other man, after all.  Get him hooked onto Nyx as well as Nicole and they could take him and his cult down in no time.

At least, that’s what one part of Nyx’s mind clinically reminds him.  The __only__  reason he’s doing this is to get more information from the man.  To find out why he left the military and why he’s trying to take down as much of Insomnia as he can.  

The other part…

The other part is all rearing to go.  It wants to be close to Mi’ihen.  Wants to spend time with him, listening to his deep voice, feel the heat of his body against his.  Wants to bury his face in the man’s shoulder, to inhale the scent into his very core.

‘Which is a no go,’ he chaises himself.  Instead of doing that, he calmly walks into the shop and gets in line.  He hasn’t been here, personally, in some time.  Usually he’ll give someone his order and money while he’s bent over his work.

Thankfully there’s still a handful of familiar faces behind the counter.  

He waits his turn, idly looking around the area.  The low hum on chatter is soothing, along with the soft jazz music coming from the speakers.  The seats are only half full this close to the end of the work day.  Plenty of time for more to come in and ramp up the volume as everyone unwinds from the day.

Machines whoosh and sizzle from behind the counters.  Metal pitchers clanking against the counter tops.  A voice calling out drinks and names at the far end snags his attention.

As he shuffles forward with the rest of the line, he finally sees him.

There in the corner of window and wall, is Lord Mi’ihen.  Dressed nicely in a light grey business suit.  Hair’s gelled back, though some bangs had managed to break free and hang down.  On the table top his hands are clenched together as if in prayer.  He-

“Hey, handsome!  Haven’t seen you here in a while!”

Nyx gets jerked back to what’s right in front of him by the cashier.  Trying to act like he wasn’t just caught staring off into space, he manages a very unsmooth, “What’s brewing, gorgeous?”

The young woman rolls her eyes.  “Just the usual madness.  New beans are being trained __right before rush hour__.  No big deal.”

“I can hear you, Angelica!” someone shouts from behind the second espresso machine down.

“Good!  You were supposed to, boss-lady!” Angelica shouts back, full sass, to Michelle.  Turning back to Nyx, she asks in her sweetest customer service voice, “The usual, good sir?”

“Nay, not today, fair maiden.”  It’s been so long that he’s forgotten just why he loves this coffee shop.  “For I am feeling adventurous.  What doth thou suggest?”

Angelica’s snorting from how hard she’s reigning in her laughter.  “I can’t anymore.  Okay,” she stops to breathe, “what’re you feeling?”

“A little off my game, actually.  Meeting someone here: talk, dark, and handsome.  Want to make the meet last a little while.”

“Does he need a drink, too?”

“Yeah, he’s looking a little tired like I am.”

“You look half dead, is what it is.”  Boss-lady interjects herself into the conversation quickly.  “I got this.  Just ring him up for two lattes,” she instructs Angelica as she scribbles mysterious codes along the side of the cups.  “N-I-X, right?”

“Y, you heathen.”  He throws a playful glare her way, tradition with how often she’s the one to make his drinks herself.

“Stop flirting with my boss and pay up, m’lord.  You’re holding up my line.”

“Ah, if I must.”  He hands her the money, waving off his ample amount of change towards the tip jar.  He glances back over his shoulder to see that the line has indeed gotten longer.  A lot longer.  “Good luck,” he nods to her before making his way down to the pickup spot.

“Thanks,” she sighs.  A wish for a sudden illness overcomes her for a split second.  As soon as it’s over, she’s greeting the next customer with the most chipper voice she can manage.

Nyx can’t help but shake his head at the grumpy voice of the man behind him.  Silently thankful for not having a job like this, he whiles away the time trying to discreetly observe Mi’ihen again.

The backdrop of the work space is covered in tiled mirrors.  Perfectly reflective enough to __see__  tiny versions of their surroundings.  He could watch Mi’ihen without the other man knowing that he was doing it.

Not that he’d changed much since he got in line.  Still just sitting there, an aura of dejection radiating off of him.  Mini Mi’ihen’s would straighten up as a tall brunette passes by the large front window.  Just as quickly they would slump back down when it wasn’t who he was looking for.

‘Although, Mi’ihen won’t really know what he’s looking for, will he?’ Nyx thinks, rubbing a palm along the rough stubble on his chin and cheeks.  ‘Well, should be entertaining either way!’  Seeing Michelle heading his way with drinks in hand, he straightens up from his slouch against the counter.

“Nyx!” she hollers.  “Nyx with a Y?”

“I’m right here, you blind old bat!”  He patiently holds out his hands for the hot drinks.  With his back turned, he misses how Mi’ihen’s head perks up at the name.

“Oh!  There you are!  Didn’t see you for a second.”  Michelle smirks and hands them over.  “Have fun on your date, loser.”

“Thanks, wench.”  He salutes her with the cup in his right hand.  Before he turns around, a deep breath is taken to steel his nerves.  ‘You’re just meeting up with the guy.  Not like you have to fuck him again.’  The attempt at calming himself in ruined when that damned voice returns.

__~Not like you would mind, riiiiight?~_ _

‘Shut up!  Shut up!’  Mentally screaming at the voice works.  This time.  Now he can turn his thoughts towards something better.  ‘Think of something cool.  Something smooth.  What does Tredd say when he’s hitting on someone?’  Clearing his throat, Nyx goes with a, “This seat taken?”

The speed that Mi’ihen uses to turn his head actually makes the joints in his neck go __snap, crackle, pop!__   Several people in close vicinity involuntarily winced in sympathy.

But Nyx didn’t have eyes on them.  Mi’ihen has all his attention right now.

Slumped shoulders pull up, military straight as clenched hands grip each other tightly.  Barely noticeable from under the comically small round table is Mi’ihen adjusting his legs.  Fight or Flight instinct is strong with this one.

A good minute passes like this:  Mi’ihen slowly relaxing, dark eyes taking in every detail before him.  Nyx gradually becoming aware of how hot his palms are getting, shifting nervously from foot to foot.  A handful of patrons covertly watching the unfolding drama in hopes of perking up their day.

“nicole?”

“Uh, Nyx now, actually.”

“Oh.  Yes, of course.  My apologies.”  There’s an aborted move on the larger man’s part.  Hands going to push him up.  Then freeze.  Mi’ihen’s cheeks redden just a little bit.

It takes Nyx 0.02 seconds to figure it out before he starts chuckling.  “Were…Were you about to pull out my chair for me, good sir?”

The slight blush spreads as they stare each other down.  Instead of doing something chivalrous, Mi’ihen waves a hand at the empty seat across from him.

Finally Nyx is able to set down their drinks.  Wiping his sweaty palms (from the __drinks__ , not from getting to meet him again!) off on his jeans, Nyx settles in on the lightly padded chair.

“I, ah, wasn’t sure what you’d like,” Nyx says, sliding the hot beverage towards Mi’ihen.  “She, the barista, suggested this.”

Mi’ihen picks it up, squinting at the messily written codes along on stripe.  “What is it?”  He goes so far as to sniff at the tiny opening on the lid.

Nyx shrugs as he takes a whiff of his own drink.  He’d ordered something new this time, trying to get himself to remember that he’s not just here to hang out and chat like it was old times.  

Not that he should feel that way __at all__  while in Lord Mi’ihen’s presence.  

“Some seasonal drink?  Toasted Chocolate… Mah-cay-otto Java Mocha… Coffee Latte?”

Mi’ihen looks from the codes up to Nyx’s face and back down.  “There’s… no way it could be called that.  There’s not enough letters for it.”  He can’t help the throaty chuckle as it becomes Nyx’s turn to be flustered.

“Okay, okay.  Fine.  But it was something like that.  Mine’s just as confusing.  I think coffee shops are out to get us all with these weird names they always come up with.  But at least they smell good?”

“There is that.”  Mi’ihen raises his paper cup, “Cheers?”

“Cheers.”

They gently tap their cups together before taking hesitant sips of the cooling concoctions.  A split second where neither of them can bear to swallow.  Eyes, wide, faces almost slack-jawed if it didn’t result in them losing their mouthfuls.

Nyx finally swallows his and quickly takes another, longer pull.  Across form him, Mi’ihen went a step further, closing his eyes and humming happily at his second taste.

Mi’ihen eventually breaks the silence with an awed whisper of, “I hope you tipped them well for this.”

“Oh hell yes.  They are actual miracle workers, afterall.”  Nyx forces himself not to just guzzle it all down so he can go and get another cup.  “My ‘Glai- my __friends__  and I rely on those magnificent heroes in aprons to keep us functioning throughout the day.”

Mentally Nyx is beating his head against the table.  Physically he covers up his little (potentially dangerous) slip with another mouthful of warm bliss in a cup.

The other man doesn’t appear to have noticed - too engrossed in his own little world of sugar and espresso.

“Never took you for having a sweet tooth,” Nyx comments quietly.  For just a second he relaxes.  Only for a minute does he sit back, legs sprawled open and __really looks__  at the feared, headache-inducing cult leader.

The exhaustion’s still there.  Caffeine and sugar can’t magic that away without sleep’s assistance.  There’s new stress lines around his eyes and mouth.  Too many nights with all of his plans crumbling to dust around him.  Squinting just a little and Nyx can see a few strands of gray hair.  Sighing, he’s able to __smell__  the exhaustion coming off of him in waves.

It makes the Kingsglaive Captain feel a little sorry for Mi’ihen.

A little bit.

Tiny bit.

More than he should for a rogue, ex-military man bent on…

Something.

They still haven’t been able to discover a concrete motive behind it all.

“-x?  Nyx?  Are you all right?”

A warm hand rests over his on top of the table, breaking Nyx from his mental wandering.  Unconsciously, he turns his hand so that they can tangle their fingers together.

“Yeah,” he finally replies, his voice a little huskier than usual.  “Just got lost in thought there for a bit, sorry.  Did you say something?”

Mi’ihen huffs, amusement dancing in his eyes.  “I did, my treas- Nyx.  I asked where is it?”  He raises an eyebrow, smirk firmly planted on his face.

“It?”  Nyx’s mind races trying to figure out what the other man’s talking about.  ‘He doesn’t __know__ , right?  He can’t possibly know that I’m part of the Kingsglaive.  There’s hundreds of people who word at the Citadel.’

“Yes,” that smooth voice cuts in, shredding the growing panic.  “My suit jacket?  The excuse we’re both using for finally meeting up again.”

This time Nyx does physically drop his  head onto the table.  Nearby patrons eye him a bit apprehensively as he bounces his forehead a few times.  The ‘stupid, stupid, __stupid__ ’ mantra he keeps muttering helps increase the wary look being directed his way.  Mi’ihen’s grip on his hand tightens as he thumps his head a final time.

When Nyx lifts his head, there’s a fist-sized red mark right in the middle of his forehead.  Looking at Mi’ihen, he can’t help the heat rushing to his face as he admits, “I… forgot it at work?”  Embarrassment colors his voice as the statement ends sounding like a question.  Like he wasn’t sure if he did or not.  “I was in such a hurry to get here that I may have left it in my office.”

At the incredulous (shocked, infatuated?) look thrown his way, Nyx lets his head drop back down onto the unforgiving tabletop.  He’s a little shocked himself when his abused forehead comes in contact with something much more forgiving than the coffee-stained wood.

Cracking open an eye shows rough, calloused skin.  Little nicks and cuts from years of service.  Thick, strong fingers (oh so strong.  they can easily- no!  bad brain!  not in public!) curl up, lifting the ‘Glaive’s head.

“No more of that, please, my treasure.”

Mi’ihen’s eyes are so soft, pairing nicely with his gentle plea.  Nyx’s throbbing head is overly grateful at it’s rescue.  The moment is their own.  So much so that neither really notices the slip up that is the nickname.  Or the people around them snapping candid pictures of the sappy moment on their phones to share with friends and the internet.

It takes a barista ‘accidentally’ bumping into their table as he passes to break their gaze.  The aproned man goes on cleaning empty tables as if nothing had happened.  Which to him, it was nothing.  To the two men, both awkwardly cleared their throats and looked away.  

Mi’ihen quickly took a sip of his luke warm drink.  For some reason he was suddenly parched.  It certainly had nothing to do with Nyx’s profile being haloed by the evening sun.  Nothing to do with remembering how the younger man felt under him, around him.

Nyx on the other hand.  Guilt starts to nibble away at him.  He has a very loving family back at the Citadel.  Not a spouse and kid type family… But… One whiff of this man’s cologne, the warmth of his body.  How courteous he was to Nyx even after knowing he was more than meets the eye.

He __still__  has some of Sonitus leaking out of him, yet he wants -no needs- it to be replaced with Mi’ihen’s.

“Would you… Uh, would you like to meet again?  So I can actually return your jacket, of course.”  The captain shifts in his chair, partially from Sonitus and also from nerves.  ‘I shouldn’t do this!  This isn’t like taking one for the team.  This is-’

“I’d love to,” Mi’ihen interrupts the inner panicking.  “Maybe at a later time?  That way you don’t need to rush over,” he teases as Nyx once again flushes at his blunder.

“Yeah, yeah,” he drawls out.  “That might be a better idea.”

“How about… say six or seven Friday evening?” come the hesitant suggestion.  Another sip of thickly flavored coffee while the man across from him thinks it over.

Nyx fidgets with his cup.  As he peels apart the sleeve he asks, “As in a __date__  Friday evening?”  His heart’s beating painfully in his chest.  A traitor just like his brain.  ‘Something __has__  to be wrong with me.’

His question almost has Mi’ihen crushing his cup.  He hadn’t really thought of it that way.  “It can be.  If __you__  want it to be.”  Squaring his shoulders, he adds on, “I wouldn’t be opposed to calling it that.”

Once they hash out the details, Nyx is the one to end their conversation with, “It’s a date.”

~*~

Later that night, several on Insomnia’s finest (and not-so-finest) are scrolling the tags on their mobiles.  The top trending is #coffeeshoplove, started just that evening.  Almost the entirety of the Kingsglaive and other Citadel members are oohing and awing over the touched up photos of couples.

Some of them are staring deeply into each others eyes.  Others leaning against each other, coffee cups in hand.  There’s over a hundred photos and all of them have comments.

Most of the ‘Glaives call it a night before they reach the end of the posts.  Just a handful can’t help but keep going, eyes squinting from how hard the pictures make them smile in happiness.

When those handful finally reach the end, there’s a variety of emotions expressed.

Mi’ihen - proud of how they looked together in that moment.

Pelna - shocked that Nyx would look at a known terrorist that way.

Nyx - dopey as he holds his borrowed jacket to his face.

Crowe - suspicious at how Nyx was so quick to meet up with this man.

Libertus - disgust at how much they must be failing Nyx if he’s running into __his__  arms.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Shiary for an idea on what to name this thing!


End file.
